


The 36 Questions That Lead to an Angel and a Demon Finally Admitting Their Feelings

by flaming_homosexual



Series: Good Omens One-Shots [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Confessions, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_homosexual/pseuds/flaming_homosexual
Summary: Aziraphale gets a laptop and discovers the 36 scientifically proven questions that lead to love and tries it out with Crowley.CW: Language, weight/body issues, low self-esteem
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858720
Comments: 3
Kudos: 128





	The 36 Questions That Lead to an Angel and a Demon Finally Admitting Their Feelings

It had started as a game, really. Well, for Crowley it was a game anyway. For a while now Aziraphale had been working with the bare minimum of modern technology; an out-of-date flip phone. For quite some time now his phone had been giving up on Aziraphale, glitching while he was making calls and whatnot. Crowley had had enough. He went out to the nearest stores and bought the angel a laptop and latest-model cell phone.

Crowley practically shoved the technology into Aziraphale’s hands, much to the angel’s astonishment.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “Why did you—”

“Because, Angel, I’m tired of your phone cutting out every time I talk to you.” Crowley sighed. “You’re also very behind on the times. All you read are the bloody classics.”

“They’re fascinating!” Aziraphale argued with puppy dog eyes.

“I’m just saying you need to stay up to date,” Crowley said. “I can’t risk you being found out, all right?”

Aziraphale and Crowley stayed up all night setting up the angel’s computer. Crowley set him up on some sites that he had created—and was quite proud of—Twitter and Tumblr. Aziraphale found reliable news sources, nerdy—as Crowley would call them—news sources and books, and instantly fell in love with Wikipedia.

One afternoon Crowley had come over at the excited beckoning of Aziraphale. He didn’t specify why he wanted the demon’s presence, but Crowley was fond enough of the angel that he would drop everything even if he was discorporated to see him.

Crowley pushed the door open and gently shut it, turning around and immediately met with Aziraphale’s wide, joyous grin. He was in trouble.

“All right,” Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets attempting to keep his cool. “What’ja want me here for?”

“I have just found the most incredible thing!” Aziraphale picked up his laptop from the coffee table and threw his glasses on. “The humans—apparently—found 36 questions that lead to love. Isn’t that fascinating? They found a way to develop romantic attraction with anybody with 36 simple questions!”

“Where are you going with this, Aziraphale?” Dread dropped in Crowley’s metaphorical stomach. He didn’t need 36 scientifically proven questions to tell him how he felt.

“Well, I thought it would be interesting if we tried it!”

Satan, how much Crowley regretted getting Aziraphale a computer. What’s worse is he couldn’t find it in himself to say no. Aziraphale stood there, still grinning, eyes wide, and a bubbly demeanor that Crowley couldn’t find in his heart to say no to. Still, he tried to.

“I don’t know, Angel.” Crowley hesitated, “I mean, the questions are meant for humans.”

“I think that they would work just as well for us, Crowley.”

The demon sighed.

“You’re not letting me leave until we do this, are you?”

Aziraphale shook his head, giggling under his breath. Although Crowley was slightly peeved his lips curled into a tiny grin.

“Bastard.” 

He flopped down on one end of the leather couch Aziraphale had bought for his patrons to use. Aziraphale gracefully seated himself on the other end, miracling himself some tea before beginning.

“So how this works,” Aziraphale says, “Is we ask one another the 36 questions, answer them as truthfully as possible—I trust you to do as such—and then stare into each other’s eyes for 4 minutes without talking.”

 _Well,_ Crowley thought, _bollocks._

“Let’s get this over with,” Crowley grumbled.

“Glad you’re as enthusiastic as I am!” Aziraphale chirps causing Crowley to roll his eyes under his sunglasses. “Question 1; Given your choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

Crowley thought for a moment. “Do they have to be alive?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It doesn’t specify.”

“All right,” Crowley shifted, facing Aziraphale. “Probably would wanna have dinner with Freddie Mercury. Talented fellow. Would’ve been nice to get to know him before he died.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I’d probably want to have some more time with William Shakespeare. Never seen such a brilliant mind as him before. He had such a passion for his work, it was astounding.”

The admiration and affection dripped off Aziraphale’s tongue like honey. Crowley smiled at their times in the early 1600’s. He took Aziraphale on many trips to dinner and Shakespeare’s plays. Crowley wasn’t one for his tragedies but it made Aziraphale happy which was really all that mattered.

“Makes sense,” Crowley said. “Next question?”

“Would you like to be famous? In what way?”

Crowley grinned. “I’d love to be a famous guitarist or something. Big as Brian May or even Hendrix, if I could manage.” He sighed, “But of course I have to lay low, so no fame for me.”

“I’m sure you’d be lovely, dear.” Aziraphale smiled with kindness shimmering in his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be famous. The lifestyle of fame is so fast-paced and shallow, I’d be overwhelmed by it all. I’m quite content with what I have.”

 _Wish I was,_ Crowley thought bitterly.

“Question 3,” Aziraphale continued, “Before making a telephone call do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?”

“Of course I practice!” Crowley exclaims, throwing his arms in the air. “I’ve always got bloody demons on my arse! I have to know what I’m going to say or they could...well, you know.”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. The memory of bathing in Holy Water as Crowley stung to think about. They hadn’t even given him a fair trial. Though, if he was being honest, what did Aziraphale expect? This was Hell he was talking about. Then again, looking at the demon with fiery ginger hair in front of him, not every being from Hell was so bad.

“I don’t really practice,” Aziraphale chuckled. “To be honest.”

“I’ve heard your messages,” Crowley smirked. “I can tell.”

Aziraphale let out a huff, smiling. He scrolled to the next question.

“Ooh, this is a good one!” Aziraphale shifted closer to Crowley, popping the laptop on his lap. “What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?”

Crowley crossed his legs and popped them up on the coffee table. Aziraphale playfully smacked Crowley’s legs who put them down quickly, holding up his arms in defense.

“Uhm, a perfect day?” Crowley stumbled over the amount of thoughts spinning in his mind. “Probably starts with a good drive in the Bentley, listening to an assortment of Queen and the Velvet Underground. Ehm...a walk through the park? And probably…” Crowley cleared his throat, gaze fixed on his hands laced in his lap. “Probably meet you for a meal or some wine.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale smiled, a blush tickling his cheeks. “That’s awfully flattering, Crowley.”

Crowley crossed his arms, whispering, “Shut up. Talk about your perfect day.”

“Lots of reading,” Aziraphale grinned fondly. “Have a nice cup of tea and watch the cars go by. Meeting up with you for a meal sounds awfully nice. Probably go for some sushi.”

Crowley decided he did not want to unpack all of what they’d just said and took the laptop from Aziraphale.

“Right, next question. When did you last sing to yourself or someone else?”

“Goodness,” Aziraphale covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “This morning. I had one of your Queen songs stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” Crowley perked up.

“Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, I think it’s called.”

“Ooh, good one, Angel.”

“What about you?” Aziraphale softly asked.

Crowley scoffed, “I don’t sing.”

The angel sighed, “We have to be honest, dear.”

“Six years ago,” Crowley admitted. “A lullaby to Warlock when he was five. Next question.”

Aziraphale nearly melted. Crowley had never told him anything about a lullaby. He couldn’t imagine Crowley, as a nanny, singing a soft, sweet lullaby to a child. The image of Crowley running his hand gently over little Warlock’s head as he sang was almost too sweet for the angel to fathom. Still, Aziraphale said nothing and picked up the laptop from Crowley’s loose grasp.

“If you were able to live forever, would you rather retain the body or mind of your younger self?”

“Probably my mind,” Crowley sighed solemnly. “What I wouldn’t give to forget some of the things we’ve been through.”

“That’s understandable, my dear.” Aziraphale said. “I’d probably want my younger body. Despite not having a stomach I have happened to put on a few pounds since being in this form.”

Aziraphale pointed to the rolls of fat adorning his stomach, and his slightly stretched out thighs. Crowley shook his head and sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with putting on some weight, Angel.” He comforted the other immortal. “You still look quite nice.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale looked Crowley in his eyes and smiled, eyes sparkling. A slight halo of pure, golden light emitted from Aziraphale’s head for a moment. Though Crowley thought that Aziraphale looked beautiful enough in the midday sunlight. The angel directed his attention back to the questions.

“Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

“Holy water,” Crowley barked out a humorless laugh. “And you?”

“At the hands of Gabriel, most likely.”

Aziraphale’s gaze darkened for a moment, reflecting on what Crowley had told him after coming back from Heaven. No trial, no time to reason with the other angels, just thrown into the Hellfire. Crowley shivered at the thought and reminded himself of his death wish for Archangel Gabriel. Crowley took it upon himself to ask the next question.

“Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

“We’re both angels,” Aziraphale remarked.

“Both were angels,” Crowley corrected him. “It’s been a long time since I was one.”

“Whatever the case, you were once an angel, dear.”

Crowley sighed; Aziraphale wasn’t wrong.

“We’re both nearly immortal,” Crowley continued, “And have no desire for sex.”

They had discussed it before; sexual intimacy. Not between them, of course, but what humans found so pleasurable about it. It was one of the few things about humanity that they, as immortals, could not comprehend. Neither of them had a desire for such interaction. Hell, Aziraphale still melted every time Crowley brushed against his side. Sexual intimacy sounded too overwhelming.

“Right, next question,” Aziraphale snapped from his thoughts, “For what in your life do you feel the most grateful?”

“The invention of sunglasses,” Crowley chuckled. “A damn miracle if you ask me.”

Aziraphale neglected to mention that he was the one that planted the idea in young Sam Foster’s head for modern sunglasses in 1929. Although Crowley would never admit it he was very insecure in his eyes. Before he fell they were a shimmering blue that rivaled Aziraphale’s, but when he fell to Hell they shifted into the yellow, snake-like slits that they were today. If he was to blend in with humans he had to cover them somehow. Even alone with Aziraphale he preferred to keep his eyes covered despite Aziraphale’s reassurances that his eyes don’t define him.

“What about you?” Crowley asked.

“A companion to go through time with.”

It was Crowley’s turn to blush. His hair grew a brighter red as he frantically insisted they go on with the questions.

“If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”

“Well we weren’t exactly raised,” Crowley pointed out with a cheeky grin. “But I wish I knew where I would end up with the path I was on.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I wish I knew the Great Plan wasn’t...the best.”

Crowley chuckled, “I tried to warn you.”

“Question twelve!” Aziraphale cut him off. “If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability what would it be?”

“Shape shifting would be bloody fun,” Crowley grinned, his fangs peeking out from behind his lips. “Full shape shifting, being able to change everything about my appearance; hair color, height, eye color; everything. Imagine how much I could mess with Hastur!”

 _Always a mischief maker,_ Aziraphale pondered fondly.

“I think I would want to experience the world as a human,” Aziraphale wondered. “Just for a day, you know? Experience hunger, or the satisfaction of completing a seemingly impossible task, you know? The positives and negatives of the human experience.”

“That’s...that’s awfully noble.” Crowley admired Aziraphale. Sure he found himself enticed by his appearance—who wouldn’t be?—but his mind is what really drew Crowley to the angel. His sense of right and wrong and the depth that Aziraphale thought things through was nothing short of incredible. He loved listening to Aziraphale’s stories and listening to the things that he had missed throughout the years.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll read off some of the questions,” Crowley took the laptop from Aziraphale’s hands, intentionally grazing his fingers over the angel’s for a moment. Aziraphale didn’t flinch, smiling quietly under his breath.

“If a crystal ball—crystal ball, really?—could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“How the world ends. Not when, but how.” Aziraphale leaned back, taking a long sip of tea. “If I knew when it would happen I would spend the rest of my time down here waiting for that day to come, no matter how far away it may be.”

Crowley had to agree with his sentiment. When he knew the end of the world was a mere eleven years away every day he spent on Earth carried so much weight. His job could determine the fate of the world as he knew it. Of course, it all wildly backfired and Adam thwarted armageddon practically on his own but that never took away from Crowley’s dread of the end of the world.

“Agreed. Although I would probably ask about,” Crowley glanced to Aziraphale and then down at the floor, “Someone I care about.”

“If—” Aziraphale stuttered, “—if I may ask—”

Crowley stopped him, “You may not.”

“Right.”

“Question fourteen,” Crowley sighed. His discomfort and awkwardness grew by the second and he knew these questions could only get more personal from here on out. “Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”

“Well,” Aziraphale propped up his head with his palm. “I’ve always wanted to write a book.”

Crowley snickered, “That doesn’t surprise me. Why haven’t you?”

“I’m...” Aziraphale paused, considering his words. “Well, I’m not sure, actually.”

Crowley shrugged, “Go for it, Angel. I’m sure it’ll work out just fine.”

“That’s very kind of you, Crowley.”

“I’m not kind,” Crowley grumbled. “Something I’ve dreamed of doing for a while…”

 _Holding you in my arms, kissing you._ Crowley cursed his thoughts.

“Telling someone how I feel,” Crowley sped through his words. “Question 15! What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

“Why,” Aziraphale motioned around the room, “My book collection, of course! Oh, and perhaps stopping armageddon as well.”

Crowley snickered at Aziraphale’s beet red face. Aziraphale shoved the demon affectionately, his fingertips lingering on Crowley’s thigh just long enough for him to notice.

“Ehm, mine would probably be writing Romeo and Juliet with you. Or my Bentley. That car will never die!”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to giggle. Oh Crowley, always so passionate about that car.

Crowley eyed the next few questions and his jaw went slack. There was no way he could answer these! They were too private, which is saying something considering he’d known Aziraphale for six thousand years and counting. These covered everything he was scared of Aziraphale finding out; friendship, romance, and—worst of all—feelings.

“Um…” Crowley cleared his throat. “Question sixteen; what do you value most in a friendship?”

“Undying loyalty,” Aziraphale smiled, memories flooding behind his eyes. Paris 1793, London 1941, and the list went on. “And you?”

Crowley hunched over, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Their ability to make me laugh, I guess.”

Aziraphale perked up, reaching behind Crowley’s ear. Crowley groaned and protested as Aziraphale brought his hand in front of the demon and showed a shimmering, silver American quarter. Despite how earnestly Crowley rolled his eyes Aziraphale knew he was, slightly, amused.

“Number seventeen!” Crowley announced, moving past Aziraphale’s horrid magic trick. “What is your most treasured memory?”

Aziraphale considered his answer. “London, 1941. You saved me and my books.” He directed his gaze to one of the various, towering bookshelves. “It really meant a lot to me.” Aziraphale glanced back to Crowley, “And you?”

“No comment.”

Aziraphale glared at the demon.

“Okay, fine the time we went ice skating in New York was quite fun, now please drop it.”

Crowley remembered that time as if it were yesterday. Aziraphale had to perform a few miracles in the cultural heart of the United States and Crowley had to corrupt quite a few people; it was election season, after all. The Arrangement was still in order so they took turns with their blessings and temptations and managed to meet up in Central Park for dinner. 

The demon was bundled up in a sweater, jacket and fleece scarf and still shivered at each light breeze that passed by. Aziraphale insisted that exercise was a good way to ward off the cold and—nearly literally—dragged Crowley on the ice skating rink. 

Crowley had no clue what he was doing. He clinged onto the wall for his entire existence. Aziraphale, on the other hand, was gliding on the ice with the graceful ease of a ballerina. As much as Crowley wanted to kill the angel he had to admit Aziraphale was quite beautiful on the ice. The fairy lights draped above the rink reflected like stars in the angel’s eyes. Needless to say, at least Crowley’s cheeks warmed up a bit.

Then, Aziraphale grabbed him by the hand and looped the other one around the demon’s waist to show him how to skate. Crowley could have discorporated in that moment and been quite content with how his existence was spent.

“Crowley?”

“‘M sorry, what?” Crowley shook himself from his thoughts.

“What’s the next question?”

Crowley consulted the laptop. “What is your most terrible memory?”

“Discorporating,” Aziraphale shook his head, “Never want to experience that again.” He turned to Crowley. “You don’t have to say yours. I figure it was when you Fell—”

“Actually, no.” Crowley said before he comprehended the words slipping from his lips. “When I thought you burned with the book shop. That was the worst.”

Aziraphale sat frozen, barely nodding his head from shock.

“Number twenty,” Crowley pushed through, “what does friendship mean to you?”

“Well,” Crowley knew from that word that Aziraphale had a lot to say. “A friend is someone you trust. Someone you can confide in. A person that you can count on no matter what. In your darkest hour they’ll be there for you, and also be by your side to laugh through the good days. It’s the mutual appreciation of another being. Sometimes you don’t have to say anything in a friend’s presence and you still feel comforted just by them being there. I suppose that’s friendship to me.”

 _Goodness,_ Crowley admired, _You’re so clever, Angel._

“Yeah,” Crowley nodded. “Same.”

Aziraphale giggled his adorable giggle. He then glanced over the laptop and gasped.

“What roles to love and affection play in your life?” He pointedly looked Crowley dead in the eye when asking this.

“I mean, I love my car?” It came out more of a question than Crowley hoped it would. “And I guess I quite appreciate...certain beings as well.”

Aziraphale let Crowley leave it at that.

“The feeling is mutual, dear.”

Neither of them wanted to delve deeper than that, for now.

“22. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner.” Crowley’s heart stopped. “Share a total of five items.”

“You’re quite charming,” Aziraphale admitted. “Or sinister, I’m not sure which one.”

Crowley sighed, trying to keep up whatever bravado he had left.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale nodded earnestly. “Come on, it’s fun!”

The demon sighed.

“You’re kind,” Crowley muttered, “Even to me.”

“You’re brilliant.”

“You’re quite graceful,” the demon admitted.

“You care,” Aziraphale teased, “More than you let on.”

“You never quite outgrew 1940’s fashion.”

“You are, at heart, a good person.”

“And you’re a bit of a bastard for saying that,” Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale concentrated on his palms. “I quite like your eyes.”

“I like your soft physique.”

 _Goodness,_ Aziraphale thought, _Crowley is going to kill me if he keeps talking like this._

••••

“Question 26!” Aziraphale announced. “Complete the sentence; I wish I had someone with whom I could share…” Aziraphale chuckled. “Food.”

Crowley groaned. “You know how I feel about it, Angel.”

“I’m only teasing you,” Aziraphale assured him. “Although you are missing out.”

“I wish I had someone with whom I could share...love with.”

Aziraphale stopped breathing.

“Love?” He questioned.

“Yeah, tease all you want,” Crowley grumbled, “The demon wants romance.”

“Crowley, no.” Aziraphale left the laptop on the coffee table, shifting so he and Crowley’s hands brushed. “I would never tease you for such a thing! I understand wanting that kind of...intimate relationship with someone.”

“You’ve wanted love too, eh?”

“Well,” Aziraphale scratched the back of his neck anxiously, “I still do, actually. To be honest I’ve...well I’ve fancied someone for quite some time now.”

Crowley’s guard went up, and he leaned over himself, nursing his glass of wine.

“A frequent customer caught your fancy?” Crowley teased, jealousy dripping from every word.

Aziraphale shook his head, “Quite the contrary.”

Crowley perked up, leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Well where the Heaven could you have met them then?”

Aziraphale peered out the window to collect his thoughts; was this a good idea? He stood, leaning against the windowsill. The dying sunlight momentarily blinded the angel who peered out beyond the Soho skyline.

Crowley brushed himself off and approached the angel, fear and guilt bubbling in his gut. He clears his throat, the sound being the only thing to slice through the silence.

“Angel, if you don’t want to talk about it that’s-that’s fine. It is quite personal.”

Aziraphale turned, and Satan save him; he had never looked more angelic than now. The sunlight streamed across Aziraphale, his flushed cheeks and white blonde hair glowing in the dying light. If there was a Heaven (or Hell? Crowley wasn’t sure) on Earth, Crowley was sure he was there. His breath caught in his throat and Crowley thanked whatever deity was looking out for him that he still had his sunglasses on.

The angel came closer to Crowley, hardly leaving inches between their bodies. Aziraphale tentatively reached for Crowley’s cheek only to fall short.

“Is, ehm,” the English angel looked to Crowley’s shaded, slitted eyes. “Is this all right?”

“Yes,” Crowley hissed with joy.

The angel continued, his hand successfully cupping Crowley’s cheek. Aziraphale basked in Crowley’s sun-kissed glory, running his thumb over the surprisingly soft flesh. If Aziraphale was honest he half expected Crowley’s skin to feel scaly like his true snake form, but this...this was too much. Only one thing could make this moment better.

“Would you mind taking off your glasses, my dear?”

Crowley stood tall and silent. Aziraphale was relentless, pleading with those blessed golden retriever eyes Crowley had grown to despise yet love all the same. Aziraphale’s eyebrows even quirked up along with his dorky, toothy grin; he just wanted Crowley to know everything was okay.

Crowley groaned, ripping his sunglasses from his face to rest atop his head. His eyes flicked open slowly, flinching while he adjusted to the beaming sunlight. The demon focused on the adorable angel in front of him, but he was shining brighter than the sun. Crowley let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; he couldn’t believe this angel was here, with him, holding him, maybe even loving him? What did Crowley do to deserve him?

Aziraphale brought him back into reality, “What’s on your mind, Crowley?”

The demon looped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, Angel.”

“Crowley,” The angel groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

“Sorry,” Crowley quickly apologized, “Too fast?”

Aziraphale shook his head, resting his arms over Crowley’s shoulders.

“Just right, my dear.”

It was Crowley’s turn to groan, a pink flush burning across his cheeks, dusting to the tips of his ears and nose. They stood here basking in each other’s presence and scents—Crowley loved how Aziraphale’s new lavender cologne mixed with his already intoxicating scent of old parchment, ink, and warm cocoa. They found themselves lost in an endless loop of looking up, locking eyes, smiling, chuckling awkwardly and looking away. Aziraphale found himself transfixed by Crowley’s lips. Thin, pink, pouted lines with a small cupid’s bow; Aziraphale couldn’t get enough of them. Despite their size they seemed soft, velvety, and oh so intoxicating. Aziraphale giggled to himself; goodness, was he tempted.

Crowley had heard him, “What is it, Angel?”

“Can I kiss you?” Aziraphale blurted out, even surprising himself.

After a moment of pure joyous paralysis, Crowley smiles, “Yes,” his grin widens, “that sounds...tickety-boo.”

Aziraphale melted in Crowley’s arms, taking in his demon’s near-angelic appearance before leaning, tentatively, inch by inch until—before he knew it—his lips and Crowley’s collide. Oh Lord, Crowley’s lips were softer than Aziraphale had ever imagined—not that he’d imagined it, of course. He’d only been pining for six thousand years, after all. The best comparison Aziraphale came up with was the warmth of the sun beaming down on you at the beach. You felt it everywhere it touched, much like Aziraphale felt Crowley run his hands through his hair and smile into their deepening embrace. The feeling ran from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, which he was now being lifted off of. Crowley kept his lips pressed firmly on Aziraphale’s, picking him up slightly and placing him on the windowsill. It was almost too much, the dying sunlight casting warmth across each part of his being that Crowley wasn’t encompassing; this is what Heaven must feel like for everyone else.

With much reluctance, Crowley took his lips away from Aziraphale’s, a nearly silent smack emitted from their lips. Aziraphale shot Crowley the best puppy eyes he could muster, however Crowley embraced Aziraphale and let his head rest in his slightly toned chest. The angel took his time to reminisce on the past few hours they had spent with one another and once again found himself giggling under his breath.

Crowley whispered into the top of his head, “What are you giggling about, Angel?”

Aziraphale shook his head, locking eyes with Crowley and grinning.

“I suppose the humans were right,” he mused, grabbing the demon’s hand. “Those questions led to love after all.”

Crowley scoffed. 

“It wasn’t the questions that made us fall in love, Aziraphale.” Crowley thought for a moment, “But they did help us admit it.”

“Do you want to continue with them, my dear?”

Crowley shook his head, embracing Aziraphale once again, “No way, ‘m not moving.”

The angel chuckled, “I’m glad the feeling’s mutual, love.”

For the first time in six thousand years that statement was confirmed in Crowley’s mind. Their feelings were mutual; love.


End file.
